And then Winter came
by Gray Wings
Summary: Why silence is never a good policy. CRACK, oneshot


Cross-posted. Enjoy!

**CLAMP owns.** I just mock. :)

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><p>"Subaru-kun…"<p>

Subaru clenches ofuda between nerveless fingers. His lips are chapped by December's wind, eyes wet with snow. Tears. His coattails whip about his hips, bloody ends dragging lines of fire upon the blemished earth. This is it. The end. Their last fight, last…anything, really.

Seishirou advances upon him; dark as the sky before sunrise, as sleep. Peaceful: his eyes, his smile – always smiling, always happy. Why would death be sad?

"Subaru-kun." Closer now, the words caress his ear – offer warmth absent in their owner's voice. Subaru shudders, all the colder with the heat of the bigger man leeching into his body; the expectation of its imminent absence makes this brief indulgence seem terrible, torturous. Even now, Seishirou shifts his weight, long legs moving –

—bending—

Subaru stares, wide-eyed, as the Sakurazukamori kneels by his feet in the frost. The man's thick winter coat presses against the malleable whiteness, as if flowing atop a frozen sky, a cloud.

Seishirou's eyes are smiling – even the fake one, albeit that is likely an illusion. Subaru has not noticed when the assassin had removed his ever-present sunglasses, does not heed the sound of traffic, of people's voices bleeding through his failing kekkai—sees nothing, really, beyond the diamond-studded ring the man holds as an offering towards him.

"You are still size eight, aren't you, Subaru-kun?" Seishirou, either not noticing or more likely not caring that Subaru appears to be a breath away from catatonic, carefully removes the ring from its elegant box and takes one of Subaru's limp hands in his. The snow-drenched glove gives him a pause; both of _his_hands are busy. Giving an almost noticeable shrug Seishirou leans forward, bites the loose cloth about Subaru's middle finger, and pulls the glove off.

Subaru shudders at the sight, momentarily distracted.

Then a small, round object _that is most definitely, absolutely, for the love of all sacred _not_ an engagement ring_is slipped on his finger, accompanied by a soft kiss to his upturned hand.

"Perfect." Seishirou's voice is more than pleased. He has stood up; dazed, Subaru lifts his face and tries to focus on Seishirou's above him. "Now, only one thing remains."

No.

"Subaru-kun—"

_No._

"—will you grant me the honor—"

"_**FUCK**_NO."

The world seems to swirl and Subaru suddenly finds himself a good meter away from where he had been standing, Seishirou's arms wrapped securely about his middle. _What…_

His eyes catch enraged purple. Oh.

Kamui marches towards them, pulling the Twin Sword out of the wet patch of snow bearing Seishirou's indentation in passing.

"Get your hands _**off**_him, you fucking sakura-sniffing pedophile, or I am going to skewer you on your damn Tree!"

"Kamui…" Subaru tries to placate his friend. Pauses.

Why is he helping the Sakurazukamori anyway?

While he ponders the prons and cons to sicking Kamui on Seishirou, the assassin has already raised a moderate barrier between them and the fuming teen. Kamui takes a few hacks at it, but does not dare put too much power into his offensives, given that Subaru's current position in the Sakurazukamori's arms doubles as a human shield.

"Now, Shirou-kun, this is a very private occasion—"

"Shut the fuck up, you sick fuck," Kamui snarls, hair whipping about his face with a little bit more than the winter wind. Seishirou smirks against Subaru's cheek, pulling the younger man closer to his body.

The sound Kamui makes is reminiscent of a bull about to strike.

Subaru thinks of the power lying dormant within both men's flesh, thinks of the possible harm they could cause to each other—

"Mommy, what is that oniisan holding?"

Subaru's heart stops. Very slowly, his head shifts to the left, wide eyes taking in the crowd that had collected on the street opposite Ueno Park's border. His kekkai. His kekkai is gone, and there are people, and—

"Seishirou, illusion," he hisses.

"I thought you don't approve of my magic," Seishirou sounds positively smug.

Subaru elbows him in the stomach. "_Now_."

The night darkens around them. Subaru does not care what image Seishirou chose to show their curious audience in reality's stead; as long as it does not feature a teenager wielding a sword, he is happy.

"Thank you." He mutters, mostly out of habit.

"Anything, dear." Seishirou breathes in his ear, and— is that a –? Kami-sama; embarrassment burns down to his toes.

"Subaru, move away, and I promise you he won't bother you anymore." Kamui's eyes have a light of their own, his grip about the sword's hilt white-knuckled and tense. Oh, so he had noticed the tongue.

"Dear, if you would just wait a moment, I will take care of the brat and we can head home," Seishirou steps in front of Subaru's form, sunglasses once more firmly in place.

_What?_

"Would you _stop_referring to him like that!" Kamui screeches, cheeks more purple than red with accumulated anger. "He didn't agree to your psycho bullshit!"

"Oh, but he did." Seishirou sounds so sure Subaru has to pause and check his memories on the matter.

"I did no such thing!" he says a breath later, confident (there is a single fuzzy moment, but he is reasonably sure he had actually being shocked into unconsciousness for its duration). Seishirou, for his part, turns to him with a smile so bright it hurt just looking at him.

"You did, Subaru-kun. Remember? The one-minute rule."

"…What?" Subaru says, echoing Kamui's less-polite phrasing of the same question.

"You know," Seishirou lifts a hand in the manner of a teacher, voice as serious as Fuuma's obsession with Kamui's ass, "Silence that lasts a minute or longer is consent."

Subaru blinks, thinks of all the feminist groups his sister had dragged him to when he was younger, and says, "It is not."

Seishirou frowns, "It is."

"Not."

"Is."

"_Not_."

"Subaru-kun," the Sakurazukamori sighs, sounding world-weary, and bends to grasp Subaru's thighs. Subaru is bemused to find himself slung over a broad shoulder, a large hand on his ass and soft coat against the side of his face.

"We can discuss this when we get home," Seishirou compromises. Subaru watches as his shoes leave footprints in the soft snow, secretly impressed with the intricateness of the Sakurazukamori's illusion.

Wait, why is he not struggling?

"Where's Kamui?" not too far away, Subaru hopes. Something seems to be wrong with his mind, and he needs Kamui's pubescent jealousy if he is to keep his…erm, _virtues_intact tonight.

"Fuuma came to pick him up a minute or two ago." Seishirou turns so Subaru can see.

Subaru lifts his head, panic surging in his body for his younger friend, then almost smashes his nose in Seishirou's back in a futile attempt to _unsee_what was happening ten steps away.

Fuuma's tongue. In places. Yet, judging by where Kamui's hands are, he does not seem to mind…

"But I do." Subaru remembers, smacks Seishirou's left buttock to get his attention, "I mind! Leave me alone!"

"Home, Subaru-kun," Seishirou reminds him. They pass by the writhing duo (Subaru keeps his eyes clamped shut); Fuuma pulls away from Kamui's breathless face with a wet slurp, smirking at Seishirou.

"He said yes?"

Subaru can feel the Sakurazukamori nod, "One-minute rule."

"Ah," Fuuma does something that makes Kamui squeal, "Congratulations, then."

"Thank you." Seishirou resumes walking. Subaru is reciting Buddhist scriptures; any and all that come to mind. Kami save his soul—

"Yuuto is throwing you a bachelor party next weekend," Fuuma's voice carries through the fading illusion, "And Kanoe offered to organize something for your _intended_. Since his side is one giant stick in the mud and all."

"Most thoughtful," Seishirou replies, patting a consoling hand against Subaru's stiff back.

"Nataku wants to strip," Kamui moans, punctuating Fuuma's nonchalant comment, "I think I am going to ask him to do so for Kanoe's party."

"That would be for the best." Seishirou agrees, trailing a hand down Subaru's ass, "See, Subaru-kun? It is all coming together. Just imagine what our wedding will be like."

Subaru passes out, Hokuto's pleased cackles echoing in his ears.

"Damn," Fuuma looks from Subaru's limp form to Seishirou's bland expression, "Too bad you didn't ask him to sleep with you before he did that, hm?"

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><p>Seishirou is saying "anata" to Subaru where I translate as "dear." This is an accepted way of addressing your spouse; more intimate than usual interactions.<p> 


End file.
